


Remember that Stevens poem?

by losselen (zambla)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 11:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1548974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zambla/pseuds/losselen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Objectively, you can never call Remus beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember that Stevens poem?

**Author's Note:**

> written in 2005 for sheafrotherdon's graduation.

  
Objectively, you can never call Remus _beautiful_ : & that’s what’s gorgeous about him, the way he forces you into the subjective, forever binding you to the distortions of the light & air & earth around him, drawing you, inevitably, to the center of their change. & so it is, this afternoon, this morning, this day, this long, darkening night, along the rivering world Sirius would find in him constancy. It’s not just _him_ , he thinks, it’s the entirety of their circumstances, the haphazard way they’ve been thrown against each other, the fanning tail of fate & the surety with which their limbs find solace in the negatives. Sirius doesn’t want to throw around words as hard as _divine_ , but the flaring in him does not fit within the confines of lesser words—the unbreaths, the burn, the sweet blankness.  
  
Afterwards, they rush the dressing, mouths still thick & skin sticky. The air is slightly more weightless & the floor gives under them. In the living room there is coffee & tea, & Sirius salutes Lily as she says, tilting her head, light catching her [& transforming her]: you two switched shirts.  
  
At that, Sirius dips his head to drink his coffee & leans his elbows on his knees, but Remus simply stretches back & grins.  
  
  
  
& _in the perceptions of things, we change them. we make them. we unmake them. we remake them._  
  
Lessening: _a mind of winter_  
  
  
  
  
It’s Remus who first gave him the Stevens’ collection of poems, wrapped with newspaper  & charms. Bookmarking the poem is a small paragraph of commentaries, written elegantly on expensive parchment, in speculative, uncertain terms, talking about a speculative, uncertain _nothing_.  
  
  
  
Of course, on such quiet summer evenings he imagines snow against the dusk: stretches  & stretches of it, the blizzard long & hard, irretrievably beautiful, & painful only from one small vantage point. (a mind of winter.) On the pale pave of that same evening he will rise & not speak, not move, not break the silence. In that way this poem had always been his favorite poem. & perhaps in that same way, it does not hurt to burn. & in that way, he is as alive as the snow, as divine as nothingness, as beautiful as morning.

 


End file.
